


In Your Hands

by StarShineForMe



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abused Stiles Stilinski, Aftermath of Torture, Alpha Derek, Hurt/Comfort, Isaac Lahey Feels, Isaac Wants Good Parents, Kidnapped Stiles, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Protective Derek, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Pup Isaac, Puppy Piles, derek and the sheriff get along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-01-31 00:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21436876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarShineForMe/pseuds/StarShineForMe
Summary: Spit forms at the corners of Gerard’s mouth as he dips his head towards Stiles, the tendons in his neck standing out in anger. “You’d do well to end this now, boy. Give…me…the…Alpha!” Gerard glares at him with crazed eyes, glittering with rage.Stiles purses his lips to hold in a sob, then takes a long, shuddering breath. “No,” he says, quiet but resolute. “I don’t care what you do to me. I’m never gonna give you Derek Hale.”*Stiles' kidnapping and the aftermath- full of puppy Isaac, slow burn to explicit in love Sterek, and the makings of a ragtag pack family as they go
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 39
Kudos: 1016





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Derek’s eyes fly open. His beta’s voice is laced with fear as he runs into the bathroom. “Derek!” Issac cries.
> 
> Derek vaults out of the shower, hastily wrapping a towel around his waist. “What? What’s wrong?”
> 
> “St-…it’s…they…took him, they-“
> 
> “Issac!” Derek curls strong fingers around his beta’s biceps. “Breathe, pup. Tell me what’s wrong.”
> 
> “Stiles,” Isaac blurts. “They took Stiles.”

“Want me to walk him out?”

Derek runs a hand over Isaac’s curls. “No, pup. I’ll do it. You stay here.”

Isaac nods, his eyes closing as he leans into Derek’s touch. Stiles gives Isaac a smile and a wave, affection for the beta flooding him as Isaac beams back.

When they reach his Jeep, Stiles turns, standing awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. It’s been just the three of them for a while now, but Stiles still isn’t quite sure what to do with his nerves when it’s just him and Derek.

He doesn’t know how to keep his hands from straying, when Derek stands this close to him, so close he can feel the Alpha’s warmth emanating from his powerful body.

He doesn’t know how to hold himself back, when all he wants to do is press his body to Derek’s, feel Derek wrap around him so tightly that the entire world falls away.

The buzzing energy between them is too much, the silence too significant. “Thanks for dinner,” Stiles manages.

Derek’s gaze roots him to the spot as he takes a step closer.

Stiles moves with him, his back hitting the door of his Jeep. Derek ducks his head, his nose and mouth running along Stiles’ skin, just below his ear. “You’re welcome.”

Stiles unabashedly lets Derek scent him. He can’t help it, wants to feel more of Derek, wants to let Derek feel more of him-

“Stiles.” Derek’s breath whispers across his skin.

He tips his head back, baring his neck, knowing what that means to a wolf, to an Alpha.

“Fuck, Stiles…” Derek’s lips skim his throat.

“Yes,” Stiles chokes out. He reaches out for Derek’s jacket, feeling bold enough to maybe slide a hand inside it, to run his palm over that strong chest…

_Ohhhh, woahhhh, sweet child of mine!_

The hell?

Derek makes a chuffing sound, and Stiles blinks multiple times before dropping his hand to grapple for his cell phone. “Yo, Dad,” he answers, hoping his voice sounds steadier than he feels.

“Hey kiddo. Just checking on you. It’s ten minutes after your curfew, and I’m going to assume you aren’t even in your car yet, because I know you’re not stupid enough to talk and drive.”

“Nope, not in my car.” And yeah, Stiles knows he just busted himself for being over curfew. “Isaac had a rough night,” he lies. “I’m headed out. Derek is just walking me to my Jeep now.” He gives Derek a rueful smile and climbs into the driver’s seat. He turns the ignition, so his dad can hear the truth. “See?”

“Mmm hmm. Drive careful, son.”

“I will. Bye, Dad.” Stiles hangs up and tosses his phone on the passenger seat. He’s almost too nervous to find Derek’s gaze again, but somehow, he does. “Uh…”

Derek’s mouth curves upward, and he fills Stiles’ car doorway. “Text me when you get home.”

Stiles nods. “I will.”

Derek closes his door for him, and Stiles drives away before he does something stupid like call his Dad back with a flimsy excuse about Issac before begging Derek to let him spend the night.

Hot water flows over Derek’s body, soothing his muscles, though it does nothing to assuage the heat left behind from his almost kiss with Stiles.

He won’t fool himself, doesn’t bother denying it. He was about to take Stiles’ mouth right up against his damn Jeep, only the interruption of the sheriff’s call stopping him from pressing his body to Stiles’ to wrap the boy up so completely he’d never find his way out from Derek.

_Mine. Protect. Possess._

One of his hands drifts downward as he thinks of the way Stiles had licked his lips after Derek had scented him, the boy smelling deliciously of nerves and arousal and need.

“Derek!” Isaac’s scream pierces his fantasy, so abruptly that the water may as well have run cold.

Derek’s eyes fly open. His beta’s voice is laced with fear as he runs into the bathroom. “Derek!” Issac cries.

Derek vaults out of the shower, hastily wrapping a towel around his waist. “What? What’s wrong?”

“St-…it’s…they…took him, they-“

“Issac!” Derek curls strong fingers around his beta’s biceps. “Breathe, pup. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Stiles,” Isaac blurts. “They took Stiles.”

Derek’s eyes flash red, and he keeps his claws in by sheer force of will so as not to harm his beta. “Who? Who took him??”

Isaac shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. “I think…I think Gerard. Allison just called me, saying she heard her dad…maybe I’m wrong, but she-“

“Tell me what she said!”

“She called me while her dad was on the phone with someone else. She was worried, said she swore she heard Stiles’ name, and that her dad sounded…scared. Then through the phone I heard Chris say he hasn’t seen his dad-dad in law-dad-I don’t know! in a while, and that whatever it is was ‘over the top, even for him’.” Isaac looks up at him then, eyes wide. “Derek, he seemed, I mean, not worried, but more…he sounded disturbed. Concerned. Like-“

“Like he’s less worried about Gerard, and more worried about what he’s capable of.” Derek retracts his fangs, calms his eyes. “Get my jacket,” he tells Isaac, already whipping off the towel to throw on a pair of jeans. “And call Allison back. Find out any and every possible place her grandfather could hide someone.”

“St-Stiles, he can’t be…they can’t-“

“_Go!” _Derek roars.

“Derek.”

“Sheriff.”

John claps him on the back. “Am I glad to see you. Here.” He holds out his phone for Derek to read. The text message onscreen is from half an hour ago, shortly after Stiles had left his place.

And the words were so very unlike Stiles.

_Hello father! Derek’s taking me west to watch the sunset. Romantic, right? Now I can finally be like all the other couples. Probably won’t be home tonight. Treat yourself to some Wendy’s or something and try not to miss me too much. Oh, and tell Scott I love him! _

“Who the hell wrote that?” Derek asks.

“Exactly.” John looks grimly at his phone. “This text is so not Stiles, it’s like…”

“Like he’s doing everything he can to tell you something isn’t right.”

John nods, the lines around his mouth pulled tight. “My kid is a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. He’s trying to tell us something.”

“Dammit.” Derek asks the question before he can stop himself. “Why didn’t he text me?” He tries not to squirm under the look John gives him, because Alphas don’t squirm.

“Probably because he knew I have the entire sheriff’s department at my disposal, and I’d also rope you in to help me,” John says wryly. “Whereas you’d go shooting off into the woods alone like the maverick Alpha you are.”

He wasn’t wrong, so Derek didn’t bother denying it. “Isaac told me Allison called him.” Derek relayed what Isaac had told him. “He’s following up on her lead now.” He knows his earlier outburst had done nothing to comfort his beta, but Isaac had still done as he’d been told, and even amongst the fear for Stiles coiling in his gut, Derek had felt a shot of pride for his beta as well.

After the situation Derek had rescued him from, Isaac had become loyal to a fault; not only to him, but to anyone who showed the slightest interest in taking care of him…like Stiles. Stiles, their constant. Their strength.

His…

Derek refocuses. Stiles was a nurturer, always threading a calming hand through Isaac’s hair, or cuddling him on the couch, murmuring a litany of safety that fell easily from his -oh, so pretty- lips, words that didn’t come as easily to Derek.

And the sheriff, well. He’d stepped in more times than not, keeping Isaac overnight to keep him out of the abusive hands of his father, letting him have endless sleepovers with Stiles for the same reason. Derek had even seen the sheriff with bloody knuckles on the same day Isaac’s father had happened to be sporting a particularly colorful jaw. John Stilinski was a protector, a fighter, and Derek respected the hell out of him.

Derek hoped that someday he’d have the guts to prove his feelings for Stiles, and then maybe the sheriff would feel the same way towards him.

“Every sentence in this message stands out,” John is saying, and Derek tunes back in. “He never would address me as father, there is no way you’d take him on a romantic date to watch the sunset…” He looks at Derek and lifts one eyebrow.

Derek swallows. “Obviously not.” Because obviously. Not.

Obviously.

“Mm hmm. I’m certain he threw your name in there so I’d reach out to you. And he sure as hell wouldn’t encourage me to eat fast food. That kid watches my diet like a mama watches her baby ducklings.” The sheriff’s voice is steady, but Derek can see the slight tremor in his hands. It’s admirable, almost unbelievable, the extent to which the man can keep himself under control, while his child is missing. “As for Scott…”

“They haven’t talked in almost a year,” Derek fills in, trying not to think of the pained expression that appears on Stiles’ face whenever someone mentions his former best friend.

“Right.” John looks back down his phone. “The question is, what the hell is he trying to tell us?”

“Please, sir, may I have another?” Stiles smirks at his captor through eyes he’s grateful aren’t yet swollen shut. “I didn’t quite feel that last one.”

Gerard backhands him across the face, his ring splitting Stiles’ cheek. “You do have some fire in you, don’t you, boy?”

“Well it’s either that, or heartburn.” Stiles’ head jerks back under the force of another blow. “Ah, yeah. That one felt good.”

“Tell me where he is, Stiles, and I will let you go.”

“Okay. Okay.” Stiles spits out what he’s afraid might be blood. “He lives on Drury Lane.” He levels a look at Gerard. “With the muffin man.”

Gerard twitches with rage, but then he smirks, which Stiles knows can mean nothing good. The hunter rises up from his crouch, and when his back is turned Stiles sucks in a deep breath. Mouthing off is a great cover for the anxiety, but _fuck_, his face hurts. His head is throbbing, blood is trailing down his cheek into the corner of his mouth, and he can feel swelling beneath his left eye.

Stiles tries not to flinch when he sees Gerard pull on a pair of black gloves. He succeeds in keeping steady, until he sees the sharp blade in Gerard’s hand glint from the only light in the dark, damp, basement. He tugs again, futilely, at the scratchy ropes holding his hands bound behind the chair.

“Tell me something, Stiles.” Gerard strides towards him, casually, like he has all the time in the world. “How long does it take for a werewolf to heal from a cut? Say, oh, maybe one like this?”

Stiles grits his teeth as Gerard scrapes the blade across his chest, blood seeping from the three-inch cut. He looks up into the old man’s evil eyes, his jaw set tight.

“Hmm.” Gerard nods, as if Stiles had said something. “What about a human?” He slices the knife through Stiles’ skin a second time, across the thin skin of his rib cage.

Stiles hides his pained shout behind his next words. “Tell you what,” he says, sucking air between his teeth “Let me go, and when they’re healed, I’ll send you a postcard.”

The next slice, into the flesh of his forearm, hurts the most. It’s long, deep, and Stiles screams as he watches his skin split apart.

Gerard twirls the now bloodied knife. “How about you tell me what I want to know, and I won’t send you back to your father looking like a block of swiss cheese?”

“How about you give…me my own knife, and we make….this a fair fight?” Panic is clawing at him now, working its way up Stiles’ throat, and he bites back the lump of bile, tries to blink away his tears. The pain is getting to him, fogging up his brain and sapping his energy.

Gerard, however, looks like he could last for days. “Tell. Me. What I want to know.”

“No, thank you. I think I’ll -aughh!” Stiles can’t help the wrangled sound he makes from the next cut.

“Tell me!” Slice.

“Ss..stop!” Cut.

“Where is he?” Carve.

“Go…to Hell.” Slice.

Spit forms at the corners of Gerard’s mouth as he dips his head towards Stiles, the tendons in his neck standing out in anger. “You’d do well to end this now, boy. _Give…me…the…Alpha!” _Gerard glares at him with crazed eyes, glittering with rage.

Stiles purses his lips to hold in a sob, then takes a long, shuddering breath. “No,” he says, quiet but resolute. “I don’t care what you do to me. I’m never gonna give you Derek Hale.”

Stiles’ scream wrenches through Derek’s heart, piercing his eardrums and enflaming his soul with rage. His eyes flash red, his body crouched in its full wolf shift as he maneuvers the narrow tunnels beneath the Argent’s home.

He bursts into the dark, damp room, the smell of blood and fear and pain invading his nostrils. The scent of his Stiles is there, beneath it all, and Derek latches onto it like an anchor, letting it center him enough that he can focus on the tormentor standing between him and his mate.

“Well,” Gerard Argent drawls. “Here I was trying to force this puny boy to lead me to you, when it turns out that very action is what drew you to my door."

Derek stands on his hindquarters and roars, fangs bared, eyes glinting.

“Der…Derek, _move!” _Stiles’ warning registers just in time, and Derek crouches low, low enough to dodge the wolfsbane-laced dagger Gerard throws in his direction.

“You think I’d be so ill-prepared, boy?” Gerard rages at him, pulling a pistol from his side.

“Derek! The lights!”

Derek swipes a claw at the cord powering the only lamp in the room, plunging the chamber into darkness.

Darkness in which he can see, and Gerard cannot. Derek darts forward, slashing the ropes that bind Stiles -_mate, protect, heal- _and forces himself to circle back behind his mate’s captor, even though all he wants to do is pull Stiles close and never let him go.

The sound of spurting blood sends smug satisfaction coursing through Derek’s veins. Gerard’s body slumps lifelessly at his feet, and it’s only Stiles’ whimper that brings him back to his human form, out of his murderous high.

Derek shuts his eyes when he hears footsteps in the hallway, scenting the sheriff as well as his beta. Pride fills him at the actions of his pack, the sheriff flicking on emergency lights while Isaac stands watch over Gerard’s motionless corpse. He rushes over to Stiles, tearing the ropes from his mate’s wrists, wrists rubbed raw and bleeding, then he gathers Stiles gently into his arms, murmuring into his ear.

“You’re safe, Stiles. I’ve got you. Hold on, baby, okay? You’re okay, it’ll be alright.”

Long arms wrap around his neck. “Hurts.”

“I know, baby. I know. Gonna get you fixed up.” He catches the sheriff’s eye, tamps his wolf down enough to let the man hug his son, still enveloped in Derek’s arms. “Gonna make sure no one ever touches you again.” He jerks his head, and his beta obediently falls in line behind them, leaving the sheriff’s deputies to clean up the mess.

“Stiles.” John’s voice is broken, haunted, and Derek once again controls his instincts, the ones that tell him not to let anyone, _anyone, _touch his mate. John Stilinski would have been- no, he _is_\- an Alpha in his own right, and Derek has no desire to create any animosity between them.

It’s almost as if the sheriff knows, as if he picks up on Derek’s thoughts. “I have to…fuck,” he bites out, and Derek is sure he’s never heard the sheriff swear like that before. “I have to stay. At least until my second gets here.” Derek nods. He gets it, and he hopes his look of gratitude towards the sheriff is enough to convey his thanks for the man’s willingness to keep their supernatural secrets. “Take him to Melissa,” John commands. “I don’t trust anyone else to look after him.”

Derek can’t help the growl that forms in his throat, but it recedes when John clarifies, “No one else medically. I trust you won’t leave his side.”

Derek recognizes the statement for the directive that it is. He nods, hitching a now passed out Stiles up higher in his arms. “No one will touch him. I swear on my life.”

“And mine,” Isaac chimes in. Derek’s heart swells once more.

The sheriff nods. “Go. Now.”

Derek tightens his grip on Stiles, and does as he’s told.


	2. Chapter 2

“He’s lost a lot of blood, but I think you got to him in time to not need a transfusion.” Melissa McCall snips the thread that binds Stiles’ last stitch. “But I’d like you to use this to monitor him, just in case.” She hands Derek a tiny white box, connected to Stiles’ chest by a cord with a circular patch at the end. “A tech rigged it up for me when you all” – Derek knew she meant his wolves- “started coming to me more and more. It will monitor his vitals. And no, it’s not connected to your phone, nor will it be.”

Derek growls at this, because how the hell is he supposed to help his mate if-

“It’s connected to mine, and to John’s. We’ll be alerted at once if anything goes wrong. That way, one hundred percent of your focus can be on taking care of Stiles. I know you can hear his heartbeat, and you’ll be able to smell anything too drastic. But with the way you reacted to seeing him…” She pauses, and swallows. “I want to kill them too.”

Derek’s head snaps up at that, and he takes in the quiet rage on Melissa’s face. “I don’t know all that happened between him and Scott,” she’s saying. “But he’s my boy, too. Stiles is…Derek.” She gives him a fierce look. “Promise me he won’t come back. Promise me my baby is safe.”

“You have my word,” he says, his wolf bubbling to the surface. “Gerard is no longer a danger. I saw to that. As for anyone else, if they want Stiles…they’d have to kill me first.”

She nods, and brushes a soft hand over Stiles’ forehead. His boy is still out cold, sleeping deeply thanks to the drugs Melissa deigned safe to pump into his system.

So he can heal.

The thought makes Derek sick.

Stiles shouldn’t have to heal.

“Call me.” Melissa cups Derek’s cheek, the gesture so caring and motherly that he can’t help but slightly lean into it. “Call me with any changes not detected by technology.”

He nods, and summons Isaac to walk her out safely to her car.

“Hey, baby.” Alone now with his mate, Derek skims a hand along Stiles’ cheek. “Rest. Get well. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Not gonna let anyone hurt you ever again. You’re mine. And you’re safe.”

It’s wishful thinking, he’s sure, that has him seeing Stiles’ fingers curl just the slightest bit.

Derek climbs into his bed beside Stiles, careful not to jostle his mate’s stitches or the thin apparatus Melissa had hooked up. He buries his face in Stiles’ neck, wraps an arm around his long, lean, body, and closes his eyes.

A few moments later, he hears Isaac enter the room. Derek doesn’t even flinch as his beta sets up a makeshift bed on the floor with blankets and pillows.

He tightens an arm around Stiles, at least as much as he dares, and speaks in a low, soothing voice when he hears his beta whimper in distress. “It’s okay, pup. He will be okay. We are gonna take care of him, aren’t we?”

Isaac’s curls rustle against his pillow as he nods in the dark. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Good boy,” Derek praises. “You sleep now, pup. We all need our rest.”

Isaac nods again, and Derek presses a kiss to Stiles’ neck, and together, they sleep. 

Stiles can’t fully open his eyes. The sunlight spilling through the windows is too bright, though in a positive way, not a harsh, sterile, hospital way.

His body feels heavy, tired. How come he’s not in a hospital?

Stiles does his best to blink heavy-lidded eyes. He rolls into the heat blanketing his left side, because it’s warm, comforting.

Safe.

His nose tells him more than his eyes ever could, and without fully waking, he knows where he is. “Derek.” It’s an exhale, a relief, rather than a word.

Wait.

What is…why is Derek…

“Derek?” Stiles shoots up into a sitting position, wincing immediately when several points on his body feel pulled tight, like they’re about to split apart.

“Shh.” A strong hand covers his shoulder. “Lie down.”

“Derek, what-“ He stops short when he hears a whine, coming from the foot of the bed.

Isaac looks upon him with eyes wide with worry.

“It’s okay, pup,” Stiles finds himself saying, even though he hurts and he’s tired and more than a little confused. “I’m okay.” He feels a soft nose against his neck, and the hand that doesn’t have some weird cable thing attached to it runs through Isaac’s curls.

“Easy, pup.” Derek’s voice is gentle, but firm. “Be careful.”

“He’s alright.” Stiles scoots into something resembling a sitting position, though he’s still mostly reclined. “Why am I in your loft?”

Isaac whines again, and Derek stiffens. “You need to heal. This is the safest place for you.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, dragging out the word. “Does my dad-“

“He knows you’re safe.” Derek hands him his phone. “I’m sure he’ll want to know you’ve woken up.”

It hits Stiles then, what had happened the night before.

_Gerard. Yanked from his Jeep. Thrown onto the floor, beaten, tied up._

_Cut._

_Carved._

_Dissected._

_Won’t give up Derek._

_Would never give up Derek._

_Cut. _

_Carved. _

_Di-_

“Breathe.” A strong hand clamps around Stiles’ neck. “It’s okay, baby, It’s alright. Breathe, Stiles, with me, okay? You’re okay. You’re safe.”

And Stiles knows he is, because that was Derek’s voice, that was Derek’s touch. He falls back asleep, surrounded by both.

“Easy,” Derek says, helping Stiles into a sitting position. “I’ve got you.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, blinking up at him. “You do.”

A moment passes. Then two.

“Why?”

Derek hides his shock at the question, pretends he isn’t offended. “Why what,” he says gruffly, his arms still around Stiles.

“Why do you got me?” Stiles shifts away, so he can look Derek in the eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I.”

“You ever notice how your questions aren’t really questions?” Stiles edges towards the side of the bed. “Der, come on,” he says, when Derek won’t let him go. “I’m gross. Need a shower.”

“Fine.” Derek gets off the bed, only to brace himself in front of Stiles.

Stiles, who affectionately rolls his eyes. “I can walk, Sourwolf.”

“Don’t want you to rip your stitches.” Derek’s eyes flash red at the thought.

“Hey.” Stiles cups a hand to his cheek. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. But I have you, and Isaac, and Dad and Melissa taking care of me. I’ll be fine.”

Derek leans in, nuzzling Stiles’ neck. He calls out an order to Isaac, the beta quickly appearing with a roll of plastic wrap, bags, and some tape.

“Gonna protect your bandages,” Derek says, doing just that, with rough but tender hands. “Then you can shower. With me.”

“Der-“

“No arguments. I won’t look anywhere you don’t want me to. But I-“ His voice breaks; he cant help it. His mate is torn, bleeding, hurt. “I need to help.”

Stiles cocks his head. He takes in the way Derek is scanning is body, the way Isaac is looking at him with wet, pleading eyes. “Okay, Der.” He smiles at their beta. “Okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles is starting to feel like himself again a few days later, even though his stitches still pull and he still is having nightmares. Derek, though…Derek has been by his side through every single one of them.

“Hey, pup.” Stiles glances over at Isaac, who is currently kicking Stiles’ ass in Mario Kart. “Does Derek know you haven’t slept in days?”

Isaac flies across the finish line of rainbow road, not looking at Stiles even though the race is over. “No.”

“Wanna tell me why?”

“Because he’d be mad.”

Stiles puts down his controller and smiles. “Not why you haven’t told him; why you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Safe,” Isaac whispers.

“What?”

“Wanna keep you safe,” his pup says, louder this time.

“Oh, baby.” Stiles gathers Isaac against him, careful not to jostle any of his stitched up wounds. “I am safe. I’m with you, and Derek. How much safer can I be?”

Isaac makes a soft sound of contentment as Stiles brushes his fingers through his hair. “Derek took care of it, pup,” Stiles says softly. “No one is gonna hurt me. Or you, or our Alpha. And if they try, well. We all need to be well rested, so we can be at our best, right?”

Isaac nods against Stiles’ shoulder.

“Right,” Stiles reassures. “So don’t-“

“Isaac? Stiles?” Derek bursts into the room, several grocery bags falling at his feet as he takes in the scene in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Stiles says quickly. “Isaac is just tired, that’s all.” He sends Derek a meaningful look, hoping his Alpha will get the message.

He does. “Ah. Well then, good thing I picked up some hot cocoa while I was out.” He winks at Stiles, and Stiles’ heart skips a beat. “Put us all right to sleep.”

Isaac whines, and Derek says softly, “Don’t worry, pup. I’ll stay up until you fall asleep.”

Isaac nuzzles deeper into Stiles’ arms, and Derek smiles at them both.

“You didn’t have to.”

“Have to what.”

Stiles curls further into Derek’s embrace, snuggling deeper beneath their nest of blankets. Of all the places in the world he could be, he’d choose nowhere else but here, warm and safe in Derek’s bed. “To find me. To kill Gerard.” He swallows. “To save me.”

Fabric rustles as Derek adjusts him in his arms, enough that he can look down at Stiles. “Of course I did.”

“No, you-“

“Stiles.” Derek shushes him with a soft press of lips. “You’re my mate. I’d do anything to keep you safe.” He kisses Stiles’ cheek. “And protected.” Kisses his eyelids. “And loved.”

“Derek,” Stiles breathes.

“Isaac is the only family I’ve had in a long time,” Derek whispers. “But throughout everything, I also always had you. I never let you know how much you meant to me, and I’m going to spend every day from now on making sure you know. I love you, Stiles, and I will always, _always_, protect you.”

Stiles jerks out from underneath Derek’s hold, so he can lever himself above his Alpha. “Derek,” he whispers. He kisses Derek’s lips, his cheeks, his strong jaw. “I love you so much. I knew you’d come for me. The whole time Gerard was…” his voice breaks, and Derek catches the sob with a kiss. “The whole time he was hurting me, I knew you would come.”

Derek’s mouth covers his, a long deep kiss with more meaning than words could convey passing between them.

“I wouldn’t have told them,” Stiles says fiercely. “I never would have told him where you were. No matter how much he-“

“I know,” Derek says, his lips roaming across Stiles’ face. “I know. My strong, loyal, loving mate. I know.”

“Derek.” Stiles lies on his back, arms open, legs falling apart.

“Yeah,” Derek says, moving to lie atop him, slotting himself against the body of his mate as if he were made for him. “I know.” He begins to rock, slow, steady, lovingly. “Me too, baby. Me too.”

“Derek.”

“Stiles.”

Across the hall, Isaac sleeps, peaceful and sound.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I love me some kidnapped Stiles and protective, angry-because-he-cares-so-much Derek. This is gonna be full of Sterek feels, loyal puppy beta Isaac, smut, and fluff


End file.
